


Marked Man

by TenTomatoes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenTomatoes/pseuds/TenTomatoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Durin needed to be stopped. If he let him do as he pleased for any longer Durin would do to him as he did to Smaug. He needed to find a weakness, something to tear Durin down.<br/>Bolg licked his lips and tasted the saccharine leftover crumbs from Baggins’ cookies. Slowly a smile stretched onto his face. A weakness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked Man

The tension in the room was going to snap and one of them would not leave this room alive. It wasn’t a matter of if it was only a matter of when. Bolg could feel the electricity in the room setting every nerve in his body on high alert, the back of his neck prickling with stress and sweat. The head of the Durin family, Thorin Durin, sat across from him, the rich oak wood desk the only barrier keeping them from leaping at each other like wild animals. That and the risk of a single bullet to the brain was too high on both sides. Durin for all intents and purposes looked perfectly at ease lounging in his oversized chair, his hands gently folded and resting on the desk, a slope to his shoulders that spoke of apathetic attention. Yet, his eyes were sharp and ice cold, slicing through Bolg with a sharpness that seemed all too physical. They were a live wire, current dancing through them, practically begging Bolg to make a wrong move, to make this tension snap. Blog resisted the urge to slyly touch the gun he knew was still securely hidden inside his suit jacket, just to make sure it really was still there. Bolg opened his mouth slowly, carefully picking his words even as he knew they were only going to make it worse.

“I know what you want Durin.” Bolg said breaking the strained silence.

 “And what do I want?” Durin said, unfolding his hands and leaning back in his chair.

“Revenge.”

Durin’s eyes flashed and another drop of sweat rolled down Bolg’s neck. There was a time when the Durin family brought a sneer to his lips and the sight of Thorin Durin only produced a harsh laugh usually given to a half dead mongrel who growled and sniped at your heel. Much had changed since those times.

“You want the Durin Family to be as great as it once was. To reclaim all your territory, to have the control you once had. Before Smaug, before my father.” Bolg resisted a smirk as he watched Durin’s shoulders tense and his fists begin to clench. “You already got Smaug out of the way, sure it was Bowman who took him down but we all knew it was you who lead him to him, and now you’re coming after me. But it’s not going to work.”

Bolg knew he was leaning forward as was Durin and the tension was crackling, ready to all but explode in their faces. Bolg opened his mouth for one more word as his hand wandered down to the gun at his side. He was going to end this, end the Durin Family, right now. His fingers brushed the metal and he smiled.

Suddenly, the door flew open with a resounding bang that had them both leaning back in their chairs and Bolg’s hand fumbling away from the gun.

“Oh dear, I knew it. Thorin Durin what do you think you’re doing?”

And like, that the tension was broken. A small man came striding in through the door carrying a silver platter topped with tea and snacks. He was Bilbo Baggins, Durin’s lover who had been with him since Durin had shown his face again a decade after the destruction of the Durin family. Baggins was a homely creature, with soft curls and a round face and warm smile that seemed strikingly incompatible with stern, dark Durin. He was the particularity of the Durin family, greeting people with smiles, smoothing over hurts Durin had caused with callousness, winning the favors of various big names in the business. Yet, no one knew if Baggins was truly aware of the life Durin lived, the real business he ran. Bolg suspected not. Baggins was the gentle type. He would be gone the moment he learned who Durin really was and Bolg was looking forward to that time with a vicious glee.

Baggins flashed Bolg a polite yet weary smile and laid the platter in front of him.

“After all these years I would have thought that some of my manners would have rubbed off on you. I’m sorry sir, Bolg was it. Would you care for some tea and cookies? The cookies are fresh out of the oven, my father’s shortbread recipe.” Baggins placed the cookies in front of him and set out pouring a cup of tea. “Milk or sugar?”

“No. Black is fine.”

Baggins set it in front of him with a smile before wandering over to Durin’s side.

“Now what have I told you. As soon as they come in offer them a drink and snack, it’s only proper. Who knows how long that man would have had to go without refreshments if I hadn’t shown up.” Baggins was all but wagging his finger at Durin who simply smiled.

“Then I guess I will have to keep you around to ensure none of my guests go refreshment less.”

Baggins huffed and swatted Durin’s shoulder. Finally he shook his head and gave Durin a soft peck on the cheek. There were some people who would laugh at the sight of Thorin Durin smiling softly at his small lover. Bolg didn’t laugh. Though his eyes were thawed looking at Baggins he could still remember the way they pierced through him moments ago. Durin was anything but harmless, no matter how soft he seemed.

“Well, I will leave you two to continue your business. Don’t take too long remember, Kili has his concert at four.” And with that he stood back out the room closing the doors behind him.

The tension in the room had been washed away with the entrance and exit of Baggins and with his head cleared Bolg cursed himself for letting it get to the point where he legitimately was ready to drop Durin and expect to walk out untouched. He picked up one of the cookies Baggins had given him and took a small bite, they were too sweet. 

“Now, regardless of what you think you know about me, about what I want. You forget that’s not the reason we’re meeting today. I want your men out of my territory. This isn’t a request. Get them out or I will.”

Bolg glared. The territory in question was once part of the Durin family until Bolg’s father took it after the collapse. Then Durin showed up out of the blue and decided he wanted all their old territory back, including all that Bolg owned now. It was a ridiculous thought but after he took down Smaug and got that area he had slowly and slyly been gaining it all back right under their noses. Durin needed to be stopped soon.

“Well if that is all this is about then I would say that this meeting is over.” Bolg stood up from the chair aware of Durin’s eyes drilling into him. They both were conscious to the fact Bolg hadn’t answered his threat but Durin made no move to stop him.

“Good day, Mr. Durin.” Bolg nodded and without another word left through the large oak doors.

Durin needed to be stopped. Bolg could practically see his territory slipping out from his fingers into Durin’s large palms. If he let him do as he pleased for any longer Durin would do to him as he did to Smaug. He needed to find a weakness, something to tear Durin down.            

Bolg licked his lips and tasted the saccharine leftover crumbs from Baggins’ cookies. Slowly a smile stretched onto his face. A weakness.  

 

 

The plan was simple. Baggins never traveled with body guards. It might have been because he didn’t know he needed guards, he refused to travel with them, he didn’t need them, or even because Durin didn’t care about him as much as they all thought. The last two ideas were laughable and in any situation the lack of protection simply made the plan all that easier.

The plan as a whole almost seemed too easy but Bolg was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His men would find Baggins on one of his many daytime strolls, they would roll up in the car and get him in it. Baggins wouldn’t put up that much of a fight, he might even simply get in if he was asked being as proper and polite as he is. He would be taken back to one of the bases and kept in a designated holding area with a guard. He wouldn’t be hurt in anyway. Durin was a protective son of a bitch and Bolg knew that if he found a single knot on Baggins’ head he wouldn’t stop until he had Bolg and all his men’s heads on a platter. This was a delicate dance, he needed to hit Durin where it hurt, knock him down a peg, make him lose momentum but the moment he pushed too hard it would blow up in his face. They needed to be careful. Durin would be alerted the moment Baggins was secured, wait too long and Durin would plan a rescue. He was both powerful and stupid enough to actually attempt it.

From there it would depend on Bolg himself. They’d meet, somewhere discreet and safe, he’d make demands, and Durin would grovel on his knees and beg for his love back. Simple and easy. The demands he would make wouldn’t be much, just some key territories and promises that would later allow Bolg to tear the Durin family apart piece by piece.

If everything went well, Baggins would be returned Durin would be put in his place and Bolg would once more be in control. If everything went well.

 

 

Everything was going well. Baggins was easy to deal with. It had taken only a quick flash of the guns his men were caring for him to startle and shuffle into the awaiting car. A pair of zip ties later and Baggins was sent off to the base like a nicely wrapped present. Durin had been alerted to the situation and agreed to meet with little fuss, even following the term of coming alone. Everything was going along perfectly and Bolg could practically taste the destruction of the Durin Family on the tip of his tongue.

Bolg stood in the middle of the meeting point waiting patiently for Durin to show up. It was an abandoned storage facility, large, dusty, and cliché but his father had always said things became cliché only because they worked. His men were hidden along the rafters and behind left over crates, ready to spring if Durin decided to do anything rash or if he had gone back on his terms and brought backup.

Bolg checked his watch. Durin made a point of being five minutes late to everything, but considering the situation Bolg expected he would be making his appearance on time. Bolg grinned nastily, he was looking forward to see Durin pained and frantic. He would make Durin beg, make him promise he’d do anything to get his Baggins back. It would be an extra bonus along with all the demands he would get from Durin.

When his watch struck the meeting time he raised his eyes to the door in anticipation. However, Durin didn’t come stumbling through it, wretched and troubled. He didn’t come through it at all. Bolg scowled and checked his watch again. Perhaps Durin wasn’t late for appearances but because he was unable to show up on time. This didn’t mean that the plan was going wrong.

Bolg’s eyes stayed glued to his watch as he tracked the seconds hand around the clock. Each minute that passed made his scowled deepen and his wish to simply kill Durin when he walked in to strengthen. Finally when six minutes had passed he heard the door open. His eyes snapped up and he quickly stood confident and easy.

Durin strode in. He was alone, not even his large, burly, bald bodyguard was with him and he rarely left Durin’s side. Though that had seemed promising, Bolg noticed with a sudden anger that Durin appeared completely at ease, there was no panic nor even a hint of worry revealed in his form. He stared Bolg down with the same icy glare he did when it was Durin himself who held all the cards. Bolg’s blood boiled.

Remember, Bolg told himself, you have Baggins. You are in control.

He smirked.

“You’re late Durin.” Bolg said finally. “Any later and I might have just shot him to teach you a lesson on punctuality.”

“We’ll I’m here. What do you want?” Durin asked, his eyes flashing.

“Quick to business, Durin. I won’t fault you for it, I’m sure you want your little love back as soon as possible and if you do as I say I will return him completely safe and unharmed. Now I don’t want much, just a little bit of-”     

“You’re much stupider than I had thought.”

Bolg froze, his mouth still open. Durin stared at him with unbridled contempt, as though Bold was nothing but a stain on a cheap rug.

“I always knew you were stupid, much like your father in that way. But I never thought you would be _this_ stupid.” Durin had the audacity to laugh, sharp and mocking.

“I wouldn’t laugh Durin. I can have him killed before you even take another breath.” Bolg growled out, pulling out his phone to make the threat convincing.

Durin only sneered at him and turned on his heel.

“You best be getting back to your base. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

The gears in Bolg’s head were whirling but he couldn’t understand why Durin was reacting like this, could it be that he truly didn’t care about Baggins? Had he actually been a simple bed warmer all this time? He felt a growl rip through his throat. It had all been going perfect.

Abruptly Durin stopped and turned to him.

“I suspect that this will be the last time we will meet. I would say it’s a pleasure but I would be lying through my teeth. Say hello to your father in hell for me.”

Durin left with a small smirk that Bolg wanted to pound into oblivion. As the implication of his words finally hit Bolg, a shiver ran down his back. He rushed back to his car without another thought, not even waiting for his men to follow. He signaled the driver to take him to the house where they were keeping Baggins.    

Bolg pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the man he had left in charge. The phone rang several times before it went to voicemail. Bolg’s heart began to pound in his chest. He called him again but again there was no answer. He called another man, no answer. He called another, no answer. He called every number he could think of yet there was nothing but silence from the house. He threw the phone against the side of the car with a harsh growl and screamed at the driver to go faster. The driver complied with a nervous nod and trembling hands.

Bolg glared the window as his mind reeled. Durin meant for him to die. That much was clear. And soon. But if Durin was going to kill him why would he not put a bullet through him at the storage facility? Perhaps he meant to ambush him when he got to the house. It would explain why he couldn’t contact any of the men but that was ridiculous. Durin wasn’t stupid enough to do something so overt or rash. Besides he had no way of knowing where Baggins was being held. What was Durin planning?

“Sir.” The driver called softly.

“What?” Bolg snapped.

“We’re here.”

Bolg stormed out of the car and marched up to the house, his anger seething with each step. All around it seemed calm. Briefly he entertained the idea that everything was fine and his men just weren’t picking up the phone, like the lazy fuckups they were, but when he knocked and there was no answer, he knew it was nothing but wishful thinking. He swore under his breath, pulled out his gun, opened the door, and slipped in. It was utterly silent in the house and Bolg wasn’t going to break it. He crept through the house soundlessly, straining to hear something but the eerie silence persisted. He first made his way to the basement where they had made a makeshift cell for Baggins. There should be one guard at the door and one in the basement with Baggins.

When he got to the door he cursed, letting every word he knew spill out, quiet but acidic. He didn’t need to check to see if the man was dead, he could clearly tell by the bloody hole in the middle of his forehead. Bolg gripped his gun a bit tighter and kicked the body out of the way. The door was wide open and Bolg had a feeling he would find exactly what he found up here down there, but he still had to check. There was a chance Baggins was still down there, probably shaking and sick from the bloodshed and death. It would be a stroke of luck that Bolg was sure he wouldn’t get.

He crept down gently and was met with nothing but the scent of blood and one of his men with a hole in his head that matched the one upstairs. Baggins was gone, probably along with whoever did this.  

“Fuck.” Bolg swore and shoved his gun back in its holster.

“Fuck.” He said running a hand over his face.

“Fuck!” He yelled grabbing the chair the guard had been sitting on and slamming it against the wall. The cheap fold out chair snapped and twisted but it did little to make him feel better.

He clenched his fists briefly before trudging up the stairs, pausing only to give the dead guard a swift kick to the stomach. He had so many calls to make. There was so much damage control he needed to do. As he wandered the halls on the way to the office area he found a few more of his men dead with a single clean shot either to the head or the heart. Whoever came to retrieve Baggins was good.    

Bolg pushed open the door to the office and stopped still.

“Hello Bolg, pleasure to see you again.”

Baggins sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, turned so that it faced the door. In his lap rested a small pistol with a silencer neatly screwed in. His hand was firmly wrapped around the handle, finger on the trigger, and though he looked completely relaxed and polite Bolg knew from the look in his eyes that there was no way Bolg would be able to move fast enough to escape a bullet to the shoulder or worse the head.

“Well, I suppose it not really a pleasure seeing as you had me kidnapped and everything. This really is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? How so.” Bolg said with a forced levity and interest.

“You really didn’t have to die. Most of the time when this happens we settle for just the destruction of their organization or an arrest. Most even get to walk out of these situations alive. And yes, don’t look so surprised. You are hardly the first person to think that I’m Thorin’s weak spot. Really it’s just ridiculous. I can’t believe people still think I have no idea what Thorin’s business is. It’s been years, I have been here since the beginning, Thorin would have barely made it through the first year without me if we’re being honest. Anyway, this happens constantly. And most people survive.

“Even Smaug survived. He was one of the first, you know. Took me right out of the blue, well he thought he had. We had planned for that in all reality. I actually stayed with him for quite a while. Earned his trust. I played the hurt and betrayed lover who was taken advantage by his unknown gangster boyfriend and decided to get revenge on him. It made it very easy to get access to his files and get enough information to take him down. Such a shame he was killed in prison by an unknown inmate, he was actually a rather nice man.”

It was quite clear that Baggins found it anything but a shame, yet he was a remarkably good actor that Bolg almost believed him. 

“But you. We weren’t expecting this from you. We thought you knew what kind of position you were in. Thorin has been waiting for the slightest reason to kill you for years and you basically wrapped yourself up with bows and ribbons and presented yourself on Christmas morning to him.”

Bolg watched him as he babbled and searched for a lapse in concentration. But as Baggins talked his eyes stayed clearly focused on Bolg’s every movement. He mentally cursed, he just needed the slightest opening so he could grab his gun and take this little lying bastard out.

“Well, I’ve talked enough, I think. I best be getting back, Thorin’s probably worked himself into a tizzy.”

“He doesn’t care about you.” Bolg sneered, he hoped this hurt him as much as the bullet he would put through him would. “He was going to let you rot here forever. He didn’t even ask if you were okay. You are nothing to him.”

Baggins eyebrows lifted briefly before a large smile broke out on his face.

“He’s getting much better at acting. The first few times he was a mess.” He threw his head back and laughed.

Bolg reached for the gun in his jacket but the second his hand brushed the metal a hole appeared in his shoulder and with it a roaring pain. He screamed and automatically pressed his hand against the wound. When he looked up, Baggins had stood from his chair, the gun steadily pointed at Bolg’s forehead.  

“Goodbye, Mr. Gundabad.” Baggins said.

“Fuck you.” Bolg spat.

The last thing he saw was Baggins grimacing distastefully before he heard the soft click of the pistol and saw nothing more.            

      

     

**Author's Note:**

> Finally a fic not in Thorin's point of view. I was thinking about adding a little section at the end with Bilbo getting back to Thorin and finding him freaking out and angry, because he definitely was a giant mess no matter what he showed Bolg.


End file.
